


Valentine Hearts

by TheaNishimori



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, big age difference, big age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaNishimori/pseuds/TheaNishimori
Summary: When Stephen Strange starts finding candy hearts on the Seal of Vishanti, he thinks it's a prank -- probably by Wong or Tony. But when he realizes that the sender is actually in love with him, he can't help but be flattered.





	1. Chapter 1

On a cold dreary day in February, I found a bit of unexpected color on the windowsill of the Seal of Vishanti -- two tiny candy hearts, pink and yellow, with the words “#1 FAN” and “BE MY HERO” on them. They were so incongruous in this setting that they had drawn my attention immediately. 

_ “Who on earth could have put them here? Wong?” _ He was back at Kamar-Taj but of course he could slip back to the New York Sanctum at any time, and I wouldn’t put it past him to play a practical joke like this on me. He could stay deadpan like nobody’s business while watching me lose my shit trying to figure out the culprit. Well, I wasn’t going to play along. I took the two hearts and put them in a little drawer of odds and ends, then promptly forgot about them. It was a week before Valentine’s, but it wasn’t like I was reminded of it all the time since I didn’t go out or watch TV much. 

The next day I found two more, blue and green, with the words “MAGIC NEW LOVE” and “CHARM ME” on them. I rolled my eyes, but it occurred to me that whoever was doing this had to search through a considerable amount of candy hearts to find these rarer sayings. Of course they fit me so well that I had no doubt they were meant for me -- and I also recalled that Tony Stark had most often called me “wizard” and other magic-related names. He could, with his Iron Man suit, very easily land on one of our balconies and sneak in unnoticed. Plus he could afford to buy bags of the candies -- hell, even the entire company -- just to get the specific sayings he wanted. While I couldn’t rule out Wong just yet, my list of suspects doubled. 

The third day I kept my eyes and ears open, hoping to catch the culprit red-handed, but when I checked the windowsill before dinner, I saw that they had managed to sneak in despite my vigilance. Today’s candies were purple and orange, bearing the words “YOU ROCK” and “TEACH ME.” I stared at them for a moment before placing them in the drawer with the others. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” I muttered under my breath. I was ready to scratch off Wong from my (admittedly very short) list, since he would never abase himself to ask me to “teach him” anything. So that left only Tony, but if he wanted me to teach him the mystic arts, this was a ridiculously round-about way to ask. Was he just doing it for shits and giggles? Perhaps he had set up a hidden camera to monitor my reactions? Again, I wasn’t about to be anybody’s fool, so I dropped the hearts into the drawer and closed it firmly before walking away. 

The fourth day they were deposited a little earlier than usual -- while I was downstairs having lunch, apparently. The new arrivals said “SUGAR PIE” and “HONEY BUN” on them, which made me smile in spite of my suspicion of a hidden camera. I spent the rest of the day with that old tune playing over and over in my head, even humming it aloud before I caught myself. 

The next day they showed up much later than usual, so much so that I wondered if whoever was doing this had finally tired of the game. But when I checked the windowsill before turning in for the night, there they were: “BE MINE” and “KISS ME” in white and pink. As I slowly picked them up and set them on the palm of my hand, I wondered for the first time whether the person leaving these might actually have a crush on me -- not just doing it as a joke. But if that were the case, it seemed extremely juvenile to profess their attraction with candy hearts. 

_ “Good God, man! Is this wishful thinking? Just because you don’t have anybody in your life right now?” _ Scolding myself for being a sentimental sap, I put the candies in the drawer, which was now filled with the colorful bits of sugar.  _ “It has to be Tony,” _ I told myself.  _ “He’s an incorrigible flirt, anyway, and he’s probably just doing it to get a rise out of me. Well, he might get a laugh out of it, but I’ll be damned if I let him catch me mooning over them!” _

The next day was the 13th -- Valentine’s Eve, if that’s even a thing. I tried to stay away from the top floor, vowing to ignore any more deposits of the candy hearts, but I had to pop up there to retrieve a book to cross-reference a complicated spell and… there they were. Once I’d seen the green and yellow bits, I couldn’t help but go over to read them. One said “YOU & ME” and the other one only had “???” as though asking me if it were possible. 

“How can I answer that when I don’t know who you are?” I demanded out loud, although I had no way of knowing if they could hear me. I didn’t bother to hide my irritation, either, in case this was all a hoax -- especially if Tony was behind it. I was a grown-ass adult, damn it, and this was nothing but a nuisance. I tossed the candies into the drawer and closed it roughly before transporting downstairs to do my serious work of perfecting spells for defending the world. 

It only occurred to me several minutes later -- when I slammed the book of spells shut with residual irritation -- that I was bothered by this whole situation… a great deal more than I cared to admit. And the honest part of my brain suggested that it was because I  _ wanted _ this to be real -- I  _ wanted _ the candies to come from a real admirer, not a prankster. 

_ “Do I want Tony to be attracted to me? … No, not really,” _ I answered my own query.  _ “As fun as it is to tease him and play one-upmanship with him, I’m not that into him, and he’s already married -- happily, I presume -- so, no. But would I like  _ **_somebody_ ** _ to be attracted to me? … Well, yes. It would be nice to have someone… a special someone… in my life again….” _

It had been a long time -- over 14 million lifetimes, in fact -- since I’d had anybody special, and the last time I had been a total asshole. Perhaps it was my penance to live a solitary life, but I couldn’t help wondering how much better of a lover and partner I could be now that I’d realized my asshole-ish tendencies and had been working to improve myself. How much better a relationship might be if I worked hard to support, cherish, and appreciate them. How amazing it would be to have someone want to  **be** with me again. 

I gave myself a mental shake before heading upstairs for bed. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, so of course I was feeling moody. The thought of all those people celebrating, spending time with their significant others, while I remained holed away in the Sanctum, defending their reality, with nobody to even have dinner with… of course it was depressing. I couldn’t let it get to me, though -- I had far too much riding on my shoulders, important work that nobody else could do. If I had to do it alone, with nobody to appreciate my sacrifices, then… so be it. 

I couldn’t sleep well so I allowed myself an extra couple of hours in the morning to laze in bed. It wasn’t as though I had people waiting on me, anyway -- just more work on refining and combining spells, making sure I could conjure them at a moment’s notice if necessary. When I finally got up, the Cloak followed me around more closely than usual, maybe worried because I’d slept in so late. When I was finished with breakfast, it tugged on my arm, pointing upstairs. 

“What? You wanna show me something?” I asked, remembering the hearts. It seemed too early for them yet but obviously the Cloak had noticed something. I let it lift me up to the window, where sure enough there were two more candy hearts and a single silk rose. The candies today said “I LOVE YOU” and “SWING TIME.” 

“Well,” I said, picking them up. The first one was pretty straightforward, but was the second one a reference to my love of music? They had left “SUGAR PIE” and “HONEY BUN” before, so it was possible. But as I glanced out through the Seal of Vishanti, I saw a phone number written on it in white… numbers that looked like some kind of rope or netting had been pasted to the outside of the glass. 

“Oh. My. God… I’m an idiot!” I stared at the white numbers. “Peter… Peter Parker! Sweet, young, web-slinging --  **swinging** \-- Peter! But good grief… is he even  **legal?** ” 

I couldn’t remember how old he was, but now that I thought about it, it should have been obvious -- with his web-slinging and wall-crawling abilities, he could easily slip into the Sanctum. And of course he (like Tony) would not have set off any of my mystic alarms, since I had recognized him as an Avenger and defender of our world. I vaguely recalled Tony saying that he lived close to me. But… if Peter had been leaving me the candies, it put the whole situation in a very different light. 

“Oh my God… does he seriously have a crush on me?” I asked aloud. The Cloak shrugged its shoulders. “Well… he must feel  **something** … to have kept this up all week.” I pulled open the drawer and shook out the hearts. They were all positive sentiments, of course, but the last one I’d gotten -- “I LOVE YOU” -- left no room for doubt. And from what I knew of the kid, he wasn’t the type to play pranks like this. The very fact that he had communicated using the candies seemed to indicate a genuine shyness… as if he couldn’t quite muster the courage to tell me in person. As though he had been working up the nerve all week to give me that last one. 

I looked at the numbers on the window as I pulled out my cell, then realized that the webbing was already beginning to melt a bit, causing the numbers to start deforming. I was about to call him but the date on the screen reminded me that it was Thursday -- he was probably in school at this hour -- so I decided to text him instead. But what to say? What did one say to such an earnest (and young) secret admirer… who had reached out to confess their feelings… with conversation hearts, of all things? 

_ Hi Peter. Thank you for the candy. _

I debated for a moment whether to hit Send or not, and decided against it until I added a bit more -- enough to convey at least the tone of my message. 

_ That was very sweet of you.  _

I wondered if that was too corny, but I couldn’t think of another way to describe it. Just imagining Peter creeping in, probably through the balcony window, to leave me two candies every day for a week… made me smile. Partly out of awkward embarrassment for his sake, but still… it was the nicest thing anybody had done for me in a long, long time. 

_ I’m assuming you’re in school today. Would you like to get some coffee afterward? _

I put “coffee” even though I preferred tea anymore. Did Peter even drink coffee? I couldn’t remember. Should I replace that with hot cocoa? No, that would be too condescending. I re-read it, then hit Send before I could change my mind. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go by asking the boy out for coffee -- did that count as a date? -- but I knew I wanted to meet him and get a better feel for what  **he** wanted. Maybe he only admired me for my powers and wanted me to teach him the mystic arts… after all, one of the hearts had said “TEACH ME.” But then again, “BE MINE” and “KISS ME” were hardly platonic sentiments, and if he had chosen each saying with as much care as I assumed he had -- as in the final hint of “SWING TIME” -- then I needed to take them seriously. The red silk rose was quite telling too. As I glanced around for a suitable vase to put it in, my cell vibrated to signal that he had answered. 

_ Hi! Yes. I get out at 2:45. If it’s not too much trouble.  _

The last phrase was endearing -- he was probably nervous as hell, worried about how I had taken the revelation of my secret admirer’s identity. How  **was** I taking it? Apart from wanting to smack my head at not realizing it had been Peter, I was… tickled, actually. Flattered. A little excited, maybe even… a little interested. I was of course interested to find out how and why and to what extent Peter liked me, but… knowing that he harbored special feelings for me… made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

_ No trouble at all _ , I texted back, then asked him if he knew a cafe I liked that was pretty close to the Sanctum. He did, so we agreed to meet there at 3pm. I tried to stay busy until then, resuming my research from where I’d left off the day before, but had a hard time concentrating. At one point I was so distracted with the candy heart messages Peter had sent me, trying to remember in what order they had come, that I went upstairs and lined them up on the desk until I was sure I had them in the right order, then took a picture of them with my cell for future reference -- without ever stopping to ask myself what I was doing or why. The Cloak had followed me up, obviously curious, and I had to look it in its metaphorical eye and admit that I was nervous about the ramifications of meeting Peter at the cafe. 

“I’ve been out of the dating game for so long… and he’s so  **impossibly** young,” I fretted. “Is a friendly chat over a cup of coffee -- or some other non-alcoholic drink -- even considered a  **date** anymore? Would people see how much older I am and think it’s creepy?  **Is** it creepy? I don’t know if he’s eighteen yet… and even if he is, I’m old enough to be his father! People might look at us and just assume we’re father and son….” 

I remembered how eager Peter always was to please Tony, whom he obviously looked up to, and wondered if perhaps Peter had some sort of father-figure fetish. Tony had gotten married right after the brouhaha with Thanos, so maybe Peter was looking for another daddy-type to idolize… and I happened to be handy. I mentally shuddered at the term “daddy” and hoped he wouldn’t use it for me. However, thinking of Peter’s boyish face and how brilliantly it lit up when he smiled, his eyes so innocent and expressive…. I caught my pulse quickening and blushed at the realization that yes, indeed, I was  **very** interested in the boy, who may or may not be old enough to legally date. But since he had made the first move, overcoming whatever nerves and shyness to reach out and tell me how he felt, I thought I owed it to him to hear him out at least. 

“Where we go from there is… well… we’ll have to play it by ear,” I decided ambivalently. 


	2. Chapter 2

I arrived at the cafe ten minutes early -- having been too restless to do anything else as the time drew near -- and grabbed a table in a corner where our conversation would be more private. After I’d read the menu on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time, Peter walked in the door, his cheeks red from the cold or exertion or both. I immediately stood up to welcome him, smiling to put him at ease, but the smile on his face as he made his way to my table was definitely strained -- only nervous, I hoped. 

“Hi, Peter,” I said softly, treating him with care as though he were a skittish colt. 

“Hi, Doctor Strange. Sorry to keep you waiting,” he apologized, a little out of breath. 

“Not at all! It’s not even three yet. I’m surprised you made it here so quickly. Please, sit down.” 

“Thanks.” 

I noticed he was having trouble taking off his coat because his fingers were trembling and couldn’t get his zipper apart. 

“Here, let me help,” I murmured. “Your hands must be cold.” 

“Um… I… ah….” 

Before he could finish that sentence, I had freed his zipper. I waited for him to take his coat off and sit down before extending my hands across the table. He looked at them, puzzled. 

“Give me your hands,” I explained. “I’ll warm them.” 

“Oh! Uh….” 

Slowly he did as I’d directed, his hands shaking worse than mine ever had, and I wrapped them firmly in my own. 

“My circulation isn’t the best, but at least I’ve been indoors,” I said, hoping some light conversation might calm him down. He was still staring at our hands, his cheeks even redder than before. Apparently, this was much more serious than I’d thought. 

“First of all, Peter, I want to thank you for your gifts,” I began afresh. “I couldn’t figure out until today who they were coming from -- which makes me feel like a total  **idiot** , of course -- but I’m… extremely flattered.” I paused to take a breath. Peter had only stolen brief glances at me so far, seeming tongue-tied. It was obvious that he had a full-blown crush on me, but I needed to clarify the situation. “Peter… did you really mean what they said?” 

He nodded, the movement tense. His fingers were clammy but I didn’t release them yet. 

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t some kind of joke, because for the longest time I thought somebody was pulling a prank on me.” 

He looked up in alarm, his expression conveying far more than the words he nearly choked on. 

“No! It wasn’t… I didn’t… I wouldn’t do that! Not to you. Not to anybody,” he stammered. 

“I didn’t think so,” I assured him, “but I’d thought it was Wong or… someone else… at first. I didn’t consider that whoever was leaving those might actually be serious.” 

“Oh… I….” He gulped, his mouth probably as dry as a desert. “I… I am. Serious, I mean. I didn’t mean it as a prank.” 

“Okay -- I get that now. But then… I have to ask you… how old are you?” 

“Seventeen. And a half. I’ll turn eighteen in August.” 

Seventeen was the age of consent, but… it gave me pause. I chafed his hands between mine while considering how to proceed. 

“I’m legal in the state of New York,” Peter added hopefully. 

“I know… but still… that’s very young. Do you even know how old  **I** am?” 

“You’re… forty-two…” he whispered, looking crestfallen. 

“And I’ll turn forty-three before you turn eighteen. Which means I’m twenty-five years older than you. A whole quarter of a century.” I sighed. “God, that makes me feel old! And I hope you realize, I’ll have to be very careful. While I’m sure it would be a lot of fun to spend time with you -- outside of Avengers business, I mean -- and I think you’re very mature for your age, I can’t treat you exactly like an adult… not just yet.” 

He nodded again. His cheeks were pale now, and he seemed to be biting his lower lip. 

“However, that doesn’t mean we can’t see each other  **at all** ,” I hurried to add. “We’ll just have to be… very smart about it. Circumspect. Above reproach.” 

He looked up at me with desperate hope dawning in his eyes. I gave his hands a final pat and withdrew mine. 

“So, before we start discussing… how we’re going to move forward,” I said carefully, “can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” 

Peter opted for chai, which was a pleasant surprise -- I had been planning on chai too, and although it was a small thing, it was nice to know we had some commonalities. I threw a few smiles his way as I waited for our order by the counter, noticing that he was trying to regulate his breathing and calm himself down. It was odd to think I could make anyone’s pulse race faster, but I had to admit it was gratifying. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” I warned when I set his drink in front of him. As I held and blew on mine, I took a moment to look at Peter -- really  **look** at him: the smoothness of his skin, the strength of his jaw, the lashes that fluttered… before his eyes caught mine, then froze like a deer in headlights. I chuckled at the ludicrousness of it all. He was growing up to be an extremely handsome young man, and I couldn’t quite believe that he was interested in  **me** of all people. 

“Um…” he mumbled, looking worried. 

“I’m sorry, Peter -- I’m just surprised that you’d be interested in someone like me… older and wiser, perhaps, but… nowhere near your age -- or interests, I would think. Isn’t there anybody at school that you’d like to give some candy hearts to?” 

“No. Not really.” He fiddled with the lid of his cup. “I mean, there used to be this one girl… she was super-smart and pretty, but… she had to move away. And, I mean… I just… I can’t… think about… anyone else… anymore….” 

It was cute, the way he was blushing. Of course it was puppy love, but still… he was adorable and I wanted to protect him at all costs. But I had to be a responsible adult as well. 

“You realize,” I slowly stated, “that in all likelihood, you’re going to… grow out of this… infatuation… eventually. I know it must  **feel** very real to you right now, but most crushes at your age tend to… fade away.” 

He pursed his lips, conflicting emotions playing across his face. 

“But I want to make it clear,” I continued before he could interject anything, “that I care for you a great deal already. I respect you for what you’ve done with your powers. It would have been so easy for you to use them for your own personal gain, but instead you’ve been using them to protect the world -- starting with your little corner of it. You may not realize this, but I’ve seen you fight Thanos in several million timelines… in the ones where we lost. You… never gave up. You kept fighting, quite often until your last breath. That’s just who you are, Peter -- that’s your  **character** . And I admire that… very much.” 

His lips had parted in surprise and the blush had come back into his cheeks. “I… oh…” was all he could get out. 

“I just want you to know that… regardless of what might happen in the future, I will always respect you… and I’ll always be your friend. But if you really want to… pursue this… to see if it might turn into something more… I’m… open to it.” 

His head snapped up at my last statement. “Y--You are?” he asked, looking amazed and relieved. 

“Yes. I know it’s not easy to shoulder the responsibilities we do. Sometimes we can’t let people get close to us because… well, it just isn’t  **safe** . We can’t help but make enemies, who could then decide to get at us through our friends and family. So it stands to reason that the best people to be close to are those who also have powers… who are capable of defending themselves.” 

Peter nodded eagerly. “That’s just it! Only Aunt May and my best friend Ned know about my powers because… well, I don’t want them to get hurt if it gets out that I’m… who I am,” he stated, carefully avoiding his alter-ego’s name after a quick glance around the shop, which had become more crowded. “So I’ve had to hide what I do from everybody else and… it just doesn’t feel  **right** to keep something that important a secret from someone you really like… so it would make more sense to be with someone who already  **knows** .” 

“Exactly. So… if you’re sure this is what you want to pursue, I think it’s important that we set some parameters… figure out the ground rules, so to speak.” 

“Rules?” he asked, looking worried. “Like… what kind of rules?” 

“Just to clarify things,” I explained, “like what you’re comfortable with, what you’re not comfortable with… and the same for me. Because of our age gap, people are going to view us very critically, so I won’t be comfortable with PDAs… that’s public displays of affection.” 

“Oh.” His disappointment was obvious. “So that means…?” 

“Definitely no making out where people might see,” I replied, “and probably no kissing beyond a peck on the cheek… or forehead. Very chaste, you understand… and respectable.” 

“Oh… okay, but… that’s just when we’re out in  **public** , right? So when we’re alone….” 

I sighed. “That’s the other part. I think for our own sakes -- to cover our asses, as it were -- we shouldn’t be alone together. We might need to have witnesses who can say we weren’t doing anything… questionable. You may not have considered this, but some people could accuse me of ‘grooming’ you… of training a young, impressionable mind to submit to my every whim.” 

“But that’s not… not anything like what’s going on!” he protested. “ **I’m** the one who asked  **you!** ” 

“Of course  **we** know that,” I pointed out, “but I’m just saying, some people will look at how much older I am and automatically assume that I influenced you into doing something you wouldn’t otherwise. Because, unfortunately, there  **are** some bad people who do.” 

“Yeah, but….” Peter struggled to find words. “That’s so…  **unfair** . Why can’t we…. I mean, you’ve never done  **anything** ….” 

“I know.” I took a drink of my chai, which had grown lukewarm. “It sucks, but I think the best way to stay out of trouble is to keep everything aboveboard: to only meet where there are other people… or with a chaperone. That way, nobody will have any occasions to accuse me -- or either of us -- of doing anything… illicit.” 

“So… like… what  **can** we do?” 

“We could go to movies, for a start… dinners, too -- although it might be a good idea to have your aunt join us.” 

“Aunt May?” he exclaimed in dismay. 

“Not  **all** the time, necessarily,” I soothed, “but I would feel better if I know we have her blessing… that she’s comfortable with the idea of you going out with someone so much older.” 

“I… I haven’t told her… yet,” he mumbled. 

“Well of course not -- we’re just now deciding what to do,” I pointed out with a chuckle. “But maybe if she goes out with us a few times, it would help put her mind at ease. I’ve only met her a couple of times at the Avenger training sessions, after all; she doesn’t know me from Adam.” 

Peter considered that. “Yeah… that’s probably a good idea. She tends to worry, so….” 

“So let’s make sure we don’t give her any reasons to.” I formed a tiny spell to heat his chai, which he had hardly touched, and set the orange circle spinning over the cup. His eyes lit up with wonder as the sparks dissipated. “What about you, Peter? Is there anything you would prefer that I not do? Like warming up your drink without asking you?” 

Peter laughed for the first time. I was glad to see him relaxing at last. 

“No, I don’t mind. I can’t think of anything, really….” 

“Well, then… the only other thing I should mention are my hands. They’re rather sensitive, you see, from the accident and surgeries, so I’d just ask that you not grip them with your super-strength.” 

He nodded. “I can remember that. Do they hurt?” 

“Not normally… just sometimes when I’ve overworked them. And I can’t punch anybody with them -- that’s a bad idea, anyway.” 

“You don’t need to, though, right? You can use your… magic.” He leaned in to whisper the last word conspiratorially. 

“For the most part, yeah,” I responded with a smile. “Speaking of -- you gave me a heart that said ‘TEACH ME’ -- did you mean you want to study the mystic arts?” 

He gaped at me, eyes open wide, for a moment. “Is that… okay?” 

“Of course. Anybody can do this with enough study and practice.” 

“Wow! Really? That would be…  **so** cool!” 

“I’ll just ask Wong or one of the others to join us… so we won’t be alone.” 

“Thank you! Wow… I mean, I just want to… hang out with you, if that’s okay, but… it would be  **awesome** to be able to do some of those magic tricks you use. I mean, I know they’re not ‘tricks,’ but… you know what I mean.” 

He was so earnest and eager, I couldn’t help laughing. “No problem, Peter. Although it might take a while before you can conjure the spells I use in combat, we’ll work on some of the easier ones to get you started.” 

“Cool!” He was gazing at me like I’d promised him the moon. 

“I suppose it’ll give us a good opportunity to spend time together… to get to know each other better,” I added. “Although if you’d rather go out and do stuff -- like maybe go to museums or theme parks or just walk around Central Park or something -- that’d be great too.” 

“Um, yeah! So, like… we can do stuff as long as we’re… in public, right?” 

“Sure.” 

“So does that mean….” He broke off, casting his eyes down at his cup and suddenly turning red. 

“What?” I prompted. 

“N--Nothing! Never mind, I just…. It’s stupid.” 

“Tell me. What were you gonna say?” 

“It’s just… it’s such a stupid idea, I mean, I wasn’t even thinking, but… like, just as an example, there’s gonna be a dance at my school tomorrow night, and technically it’s a public event so like it would be okay for us to go to, hypothetically, but of course you’re not interested in spending time with a bunch of kids in a stupid gymnasium -- I’m sorry I even mentioned it, I don’t know what I was thinking. I  **wasn’t** thinking, obviously--” 

“Peter.” I gripped his shoulder to get him to stop babbling. “Do you want me to go? To your school dance?” 

“I--No! I mean, it’d be awesome to go  **anywhere** with you, but I couldn’t ask you to do that -- that’s so lame and stupid and--” 

“It’s not stupid, Peter. Okay?” I peered into his face, which at the moment was a mixture of mortified embarrassment and frustration with a faint glimmer of hope. “I would be happy to go with you to your school dance. But you need to think about this carefully, because it’s gonna be awkward for you to show up with someone old enough to be your father. And then you’ll have to deal with the aftermath… every day when you go to school.” 

“I don’t care!” he blurted out. “Everyone thinks I’m a loser, anyway, and my friends won’t care who I go with.” 

“Are you sure?” I couldn’t help asking as I studied his face -- the smooth-cheeked face of a boy on the cusp of manhood, so desperate for… what? Approval? Acceptance? **Love?** _“Perhaps all of the above,”_ I decided when he nodded without hesitation. 

“I’m sure. Really. If… If you’re sure  **you** don’t mind….” 

“I don’t mind, Peter. In fact, I think it could be a lot of fun. Of course, I never have to see those people again if I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, a dreamy, faraway look taking over his eyes. “That would be… so  **awesome** ….” 

“Well then,” I whispered, not wanting to break the moment too soon, “what should we wear?” 

“Um… remember the tux you were wearing at Mr. Stark’s wedding?” Peter blushed again. “That… really looked good on you.” 

“Yeah?” I smiled with pleasure. All of the Ancient One’s warnings notwithstanding, I couldn’t help but enjoy a rare boost to my ego. “As I recall, you looked pretty dashing that day too. Weren’t you wearing an Armani?” 

“Yeah… Mr. Stark bought it for me. I could wear that.” 

“All right, then… it’s a date.” 


	3. Chapter 3

I arrived at Peter’s apartment early in spite of trying to kill time by going all the way to Australia to buy our boutonnieres and some flowers for his aunt. Of course with the Rotunda of Gateways, it didn’t take much longer to go there than any flower shop in New York, but they did have a nice selection of flowers in season. Then before I left the Sanctum I put the Cloak on in lieu of a coat since it was snowing in the city -- a decision I regretted when it pushed me towards the apartment door. 

“I’m early!” I hissed. “A few minutes would be okay, but fifteen is a bit much, don’t you think? I don’t want to look  **too** eager….” Even as I said so, I realized that I  **was** eager… and nervous. It had been literal  **centuries** for me since the last time I’d gone on a date, after all. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. 

Still the Cloak was pressing me forward, so I gave in, took a deep breath, and knocked. Peter’s aunt answered right away. 

“Hi! Wow, don’t you look sharp! Come on in. He might need your help with his tie.” 

“May~!” he wailed from a back room. 

I chuckled as I opened a portal to a pocket dimension and pulled out the bouquet. “These are for you,” I said, handing them to her. 

“Oh, they’re lovely! Thank you.” She beamed, then pointed to the room where Peter’s voice had come from. “Please -- I’m sure he could use some help. I’ll just put these in water….” 

I entered to find Peter struggling with his bow tie, looking back and forth between the computer screen and a mirror. I stepped up behind him and reached around to grab the ends of the tie. 

“Allow me.” 

“I was getting it, really,” he mumbled, giving up. “But it kept coming out crooked.” 

A few seconds and I had it in a neat and even butterfly. “There! All set. And may I just say, you look very handsome, Mr. Parker.” 

“You look…  **amazing** … Dr. Strange.” His eyes were wide with adoration as he met my gaze in the mirror. I couldn’t resist wrapping him in a hug since my arms were already around him. 

“I’m glad you think so… but I feel like we could both use a… a little something….” 

I opened the pocket dimension again to bring out the boutonnieres, made with small white roses and baby’s breath on fern backgrounds. 

“Oh… wow….” Peter fell silent as I pinned one into his lapel, then as I did the same for myself, he mumbled, “I’ve never gotten flowers before.” 

“Really?” I said, surprised. “Well, tonight is a night of firsts… for both of us. But I wanted to be sure we were matching” -- I stood beside him, looking into the mirror to straighten my jacket under the Cloak -- “so that everybody would know we’re  **together** .” 

The way he blushed was rewarding enough to compensate for any amount of embarrassment or awkwardness I might experience at the dance. 

“Oh! You guys look  **fabulous!** ” May cried from the doorway. “Just a second -- let me get my phone!” 

We posed for several photos, with and without the Cloak -- who was obliging enough when May expressed her wonder and complimented it. 

“Miss Parker,” I began when she was finally done taking pictures, “I just want to make sure that you’re okay with… well, with my going out with Peter.” 

“Of course! I wouldn’t be taking your pictures if I wasn’t,” she answered, smiling. “Although I will admit, I was surprised when he told me he was going to the dance after all… and with who. I couldn’t quite believe that you’d agreed to it, but I’m glad you did.” She punched Peter’s arm with a mischievous grin. “He’s been on cloud nine ever since! I don’t think he slept a wink last night, so I’m sorry if he checks out on you from time to time.” 

“May~!” Peter protested. 

“What? You told him you’ve been obsessed with him for months now, right?” 

I would have laughed at the look on Peter’s face, but I knew how horrendously embarrassed he must be feeling. 

“Really?  **Months?** ” I echoed, addressing him. “Peter, I wish you’d said something sooner! We could have spent Christmas and New Year’s together.” 

“We… could…?” His eyes grew even wider as he realized the missed opportunities. 

“Yeah!” I told him. “I was just… rattling around the Sanctum by myself most of the time. I would have appreciated the company.” 

“Oh… I….” 

Before he could finish his thought, May cried, “Oh my God! We could have had you over for Christmas! I wish I’d known you were all alone!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to impose--” 

“You wouldn’t be! We just had a quiet dinner, just the two of us, and you would have been so welcome! You  **have** to promise to come for Christmas  **this** year.” 

“Ah… well….” I glanced at Peter, who seemed to be tearing up. “Perhaps we should… play that by ear….” 

“No, please come,” Peter put in earnestly. “I can’t stand to think of you all alone for Christmas!” 

“ **Nobody** should be alone on the holidays,” May agreed. “You have to come! No ifs, ands, or buts!” 

“Well… thank you. I’m… touched.” I really was. “As long as I’m not pulled away to fight some threat to our reality, I will be here.” 

“Good! Now, you’d better get going.” She glanced at the clock. “You’re gonna be late!” 

“No worries, Miss Parker. We have an alternate means of transportation.” I opened up a large portal to an empty classroom. I’d scoped out the school via the Mirror Dimension earlier in the day so I could transport us there easily. 

“Wow…. This superhero stuff has its perks, huh?” She grabbed Peter in a hug, smoothing his hair before letting him go. “Have fun, okay? Just don’t stay out too late.” 

“I know. Thanks.” 

“I promise to bring him home in one piece,” I assured her, then followed Peter through the portal and closed it. “I’m surprised at how… ‘chill’ she is about this,” I remarked. 

“Yeah… me too,” he confessed, leading us out into the hallway. “But when I told her about all the ‘rules’ you mentioned yesterday, she was super relieved.” 

“Good. That’s what they’re for.” 

We turned a corner into a hallway that was lit and started to hear music from the gymnasium. Several girls were chatting at a table where a teacher was crossing their names off the list. 

“Oh my God, Peter -- you came with your  **dad?** ” one of them squealed, none too kindly. 

“He’s not my dad -- I’m an orphan, remember?” Peter shot back. “He’s my  **date.** Parker, Peter and Dr. Stephen Strange,” he told the teacher. 

“Um… okay, uh….” The woman kept eyeing me askance while she looked for our names. 

“‘Doctor’? Seriously?” another girl said with suspicion. 

“M.D. or Ph.D?” the first one demanded. 

“Both, actually,” I replied with a smile, trying not to look too smug. “Although I haven’t worked as a surgeon since my hands were injured.” 

“No way,” another girl said, alternating stares between Peter and me. 

“What? You didn’t think I could score a date?” Peter asked. 

“Not like…  **him** ,” she responded. 

“What did you do, blackmail him?” the first girl sneered. 

“No, he just asked me nicely,” I put in. “And how could I say ‘no’? When he’s so beautiful -- both inside  **and** out….” I pulled him close by wrapping one arm around his shoulders and placed a peck on his forehead. It left him stunned, so I gently guided him towards the gym doors, tossing an offhanded, “Good evening, ladies,” to the stunned girls and teacher over my shoulder. 

Just inside was a line for the photo booth, which I figured was as good a place as any to start. When we stood at the end of the line, the kids ahead of us started turning around and whispering (pretty obviously) but I just smiled and nodded at them if our eyes met. 

“Um… Doc…?” Peter mumbled, having caught his breath at last. 

“I’m your  **date** , Peter -- you can call me ‘Stephen,’” I told him. 

“Stephen…” he whispered, as though trying it out. “Um… did you… do you… really think…?” He swallowed, unable to finish. 

“That you’re beautiful? Yes, of course. Why do you think I’m here?” I smiled at his blushing cheeks and drew him even closer. “You’re attractive physically, of course, but more importantly, you’re a good person -- a  **beautiful** person, on the inside. Something those girls might never achieve… more’s the pity.” I couldn’t help combing my fingers through his hair, which was getting long and curly again. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this, you know, if I didn’t already enjoy being with you. You’re a good ally… and a good friend.” 

His face was flaming red at this point, so it was just as well that the line was moving slowly. Before we could get bored, though, some more kids came in behind us. 

“Dude!  **Du~de!** ” a boy exclaimed upon seeing us. 

“Ned!” Peter’s face lit up. 

“You look…  **bad. Ass!** ” Ned declared. 

“You look sharp too! Guys, this is Dr. Strange -- Stephen,” he amended. “Stephen, this is my best friend, Ned Leeds, and Betty and MJ.” 

“So glad to meet you,” I said, smiling back at their stares. 

“Whoa… I can’t believe I’m meeting  **the** Dr. Strange… of the Avengers,” Ned breathed. 

“Ned!” Peter warned, too late. 

“Ah… that’s…  **classified** ….” I said in an undertone. 

“ **Oh!** Shit, my bad,” Ned responded immediately. “I’m the worst at keeping secrets. You don’t have to kill me now, do you?” 

“Not yet… that is, if the ladies can agree to keep this under wraps?” 

Betty nodded, her eyes wide, but MJ only scowled at me, unimpressed. 

“So what do you do? Turn into a giant green monster or something?” she asked. 

“Uh, no -- nothing like that. I do… magic,” I explained, conjuring a small mandala to spin in the air for a moment. “My cover story is that I do consulting work for Stark Industries.” 

“Oh, so that’s how…” Betty began, looking at Peter. 

“Yeah, I met him when I was doing the internship,” he confirmed. 

“Next,” came a weary voice from the photo booth. The man did a double-take when I turned around. “Uh… Parker? This is…?” 

“My date, Stephen. This is my teacher, Mr. Harrington,” he told me. “He coaches the Academic Decathlon team.” 

“How do you do,” I said with a smile. I was beginning to enjoy the reactions we were getting. 

“Um… okay, uh… step right over there,” he directed, still gaping at me. I was glad the photographer was somebody else -- a hired professional, at least from the looks of his enormous camera. 

We posed for the obligatory photos, then wandered out to the punch bowl that was manned by a severe-looking matron, no doubt to discourage any pranksters from spiking it. 

“Ah, Mr. Parker,” she said, holding out two cups for us. “I see you’ve come with your… uncle?” 

“Oh, no -- I’m his date,” I corrected her cheerfully, and I was rewarded by her stunned and horrified expression. If we hadn’t taken the cups from her, she might have dropped them. “Dr. Stephen Strange,” I added with my most charming smile. “Lovely to meet you.” 

We left her gaping like a fish to rejoin Ned and the others as they came out of the booth. 

“You both look really nice,” Peter said, addressing the girls. “Did you get your picture taken?” he asked MJ. 

“Of course not. My value isn’t determined by how I look,” she scoffed. 

“Oh, I… I didn’t mean,” Peter started stammering. 

“You might want a memento, though,” I put in mildly. “It’s fun to look at old photos and remember where you were and what you were doing… and see how much you’ve changed since then.” 

“Have  **you?** ” she asked in a challenging tone. “Seems like you’re right back in high school.” 

I laughed. “Sure, but I’m a much better person now. When I was your age, all I cared about was trying to get the prettiest and most popular girls to go out with me. Now, I try to spend my time with the nicest people… regardless of their appearance or popularity.” I turned to study Peter, then added, “Although I can’t blame you if you don’t believe me….” 

“No, he’s still a loser here at school,” MJ stated. “And he’s pretty, all right -- pretty  **clueless.** ” 

“Ow… savage,” Peter protested, although his cheeks had pinked again at my compliment. 

“Well, the punch was good, but I’m ready to start dancing,” I announced, thinking he could use a break. I led him away to the coat rack and hung the Cloak in mid-air right by the end -- where it looked like it was on a hook but could turn around as it pleased. 

“It wanted to come along,” I explained. “I suppose it got rather bored, locked up in a glass case for centuries. I’m guessing it’s never been to a school dance before.” 

“Cool… I hope you like it,” Peter told the Cloak. 

I extended my hand to Peter and he took it shyly and gingerly. 

“Um… I have to tell you,” he blurted out as we walked onto the floor, “I’ve never danced before. I mean, I’ve practiced at home -- May showed me some moves -- but the only other dance I went to was Homecoming, and before I could do anything I had to go fight a bad guy, so….” 

“That’s all right; I can show you some moves too,” I assured him. “And it doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad at it -- the important thing is to have fun!” 

I proved this point by doing my best goofy moves -- cat-eyes, the bus stop, and the Saturday Night Fever pointing -- which made Peter laugh and loosen up. The theme of the evening was “A Classic Night” and they were playing hits both old and new, so for some of the songs the disco moves were exactly on point. 

“Groovy!” I told him when he did a swaying motion to Amii Stewart’s “Knock on Wood.” When Barry White’s “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe” was playing, I got him to mirror my shuffle. “See, you got this!” 

“Yeah?” He looked pleased and happy, which made me happy. In fact, I was grinning like a loon. 

His friends were dancing near us but I could hardly spare them a glance -- I was too mesmerized by Peter’s smile. Even in the dim strobe lights, he was radiant. It was humbling as well as flattering to think he was so happy to be with  **me** . When Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” started playing, I didn’t hesitate to wrap him in my arms. Technically, I should have held one of his hands, but since he plastered himself against me -- practically  **clinging** to me -- I just held him in that hug, enjoying the warmth of his cheek against my jaw. 

“Is this okay?” I whispered in his ear. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I just….” His breath hitched when I pulled him closer -- and from the hardness in the front of his pants, I realized why. My own dick stiffened at the information. 

“Just… dance with me, Peter,” I murmured. It was a slow song, perfect for cheek dancing, and I marveled at how well he fit against me… as if we were puzzle pieces. He drew a shuddering breath -- obviously aroused but trying not to be -- so I shifted to let him feel my hardness too. It didn’t help his arousal (I didn’t expect it to) but I wanted him to know that I was experiencing the same desire… and that he didn’t need to be embarrassed about it. 

“Stephen…” he breathed. 

“Yeah?” 

“I wish… we could stay like this… forever….” 

“Yeah… me too….” 

When the song ended, I drew back so I could look into Peter’s face -- his young, innocent, angelic face -- and cupped it with a trembling hand. His lips were parted, breathless and expectant, and his eyes closed as I kissed him on the mouth for the first time. It was a cautious, chaste kiss, but I found myself almost dizzy by the time we finished. 

“Wow….” 

“Yeah….” 

I rested my forehead on his for a moment, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over us. 

“You know those rules you set up?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we like…  **bend** them a little bit?” 

I chuckled. “Well… we might have to, huh?” 

“Uh-huh….” 

“Hey,” Ned called, interrupting our reverie. “They’re serving cake now!” 

With a laugh, we both turned to follow him and Betty to the refreshment table. I noticed another boy outside of the dance floor area, obviously glaring at us. 

“What’s your problem?” Peter said warily as we passed him. The boy turned on his heel and stalked out of the gym, abandoning the girl he’d been standing with. 

“What’s eating him?” I asked, unsettled. 

Peter shrugged. “I dunno. That was Flash…. He’s on the Academic Decathlon team too.” He lowered his voice and added, “He can be a dickwad sometimes.” 

“Oh?” I considered this. “To everybody, or… just to you?” 

“Mostly me…. Why?” 

“I think he might have a crush on you,” I said seriously. “You know… how some boys tease the girls they like?” 

“No way!” 

“Well, think about it: he just looked like he was about to have a cow… and he was staring at  **us.** And we were… y’know… just a minute ago.” 

“Yeah, but….” Peter scrunched his face in bafflement -- a cute look that made me smile on the inside. “If he’s jealous, it’s probably because my tux is more expensive than his. He never wanted to believe that I knew Mr. Stark, and I don’t think he’s gotten over the fact that I was invited to the wedding.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s possible,” I replied and left it at that. We got our paper plates of cake and plastic cups of punch, then sat down on the bottom row of the bleachers with his friends where they talked about recent events at school. Peter kept turning to check on me, to make sure I wasn’t bored by their conversation, so I smiled and slipped one arm around him again, sliding over to be closer to him. I realized that although I’d been to many parties where  _ our d'oeuvres _ were served on the finest china and champagne flowed like water in crystal flutes, I had never enjoyed them as much as I was enjoying this evening… and that the difference must be the company. 

“Um… Stephen?” Peter asked during a lull in their discussion about a research project. “Would you like to dance again?” 

“Sure… if that’s what you want.” 

“Yeah… I would.” 

This time I held his hand like we were supposed to, then guided him through the steps of the waltz to Lady Antebellum’s “If I Knew Then.” 

“See? You’re a natural,” I told him when the song ended. 

“Ya think?” He blushed in pleasure, making it too irresistible to not kiss his cheeks. He caught my face in both his hands, though, and without applying pressure was able to hold me still so he could kiss me back on my lips. We were both panting when we pulled apart. 

“Do you think… maybe….” He ducked his head, straightening my boutonniere. 

“What is it?” I prompted, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. 

He swallowed before continuing, “That maybe… this might… work out?” 

“I sure hope so,” I said reverently, “because I don’t want to ever let you go.” 

 

\-- The End -- 


End file.
